Message Board
by Kiera Kingsley
Summary: Strange things are happening in Goren's office at the precinct...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  
  
If I owned CI or made any money off of writing fanfic, I'd be able to buy a green dress (but not a real green dress, that's cruel). Alas, I do not in either case.  
  
Author's notes:  
  
This is a choose-your-own-adventure story--sort of. Let me explain.  
  
You know how Goren likes to tack things up on bulletin boards? Off the top of my head, I can think of two episodes where he's done this: "Dead" (he posts the pictures of the victims) and "Bright Boy" (he puts up the various solutions to the Riemann hypothesis)--and there's probably more.  
  
So, this is my thinking: Goren has this bulletin board set up in his office. One day, he comes into work to find something (or some things) posted on his bulletin board that he didn't put there--something that you, beloved reviewers, will suggest. You will review with suggestions for various items and I'll do the rest.  
  
Ready? Here goes (from Goren's POV)...  
  
***  
  
"Double homicide--victims were both female and in their twenties, shot once in the back of the head with a .44 calibre pistol," Deakins intoned, holding up a plain brown folder. A sheath of papers and photos fell out onto his lap and he swore, ducking down to gather the scattered items.  
  
Goren raised his eyebrows at Eames, who rolled her eyes slightly. More cursing came from underneath the desk. "Where did the shootings take place?" Goren said loudly.  
  
"At the corner of 6th and 51st street in Manhattan," the desk answered in a muffled grumble. "Ow!"--and another stream of colourful invective came gushing forth. Finally Deakins's tousled head appeared; the captain shoved the folder at them. "Just get out there!"  
  
Eames quickly gathered up the contents and followed Goren out of the office. "You go ahead," she told her partner, "I need to get my bag."  
  
"I'll get our coats," Goren offered as he moved towards the front door.  
  
Nodding, she ducked into the office and fished out her black leather bag from underneath the cluttered desk. She straightened up, slinging the bag over her shoulder--and stared in disbelief at the bulletin board.  
  
"Goren...?" she slowly called, raising her voice. "Come and take a look at this..."  
  
***  
  
Well? What is it? Review with your suggestions... 


	2. Chapter 2

OK, OK, I think I've got something now. A huge thank you to everyone for their suggestions--please, keep them coming! ;-)   
  
***   
  
The clock ticked in its even, steady rhythm as the lazy sunshine drifted idly in through the window. Assistant District Attorney Ron Carver was scribbling some notes on a piece of loose lined paper when he heard a knock at his door. "Come on in," he said without looking up.   
  
He raised his eyebrows as Goren and Eames sidled into his office, both wearing very straight and serious faces. Eames was carrying a plastic shopping bag and Goren had his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Detectives, it's good to see you again. What brings you here?"   
  
Eames looked at Goren, biting her lip; Goren looked at Eames, shuffling his shoes on the carpet. Neither ventured an explanation. "Uh... Detectives?"   
  
Finally Eames spoke up. "Carver, we, um... we came into work this morning, and we went into our office, and, uh... and..."   
  
"And we found these... tacked up to the bulletin board," finished Goren. He took the shopping bag from Eames and reached into it, rooting around until he fished out--   
  
Carver stammered noiselessly, his lips quivering, and went beet red. "Where did you get those?" he blurted out.   
  
"They were put up on the bulletin board," Eames said helpfully, as Goren carefully laid the battered pair of flannel boxers on Carver's crowded desk, and added, "We don't know who did it."   
  
Carver snatched up the boxers and yanked open a side drawer. "Um, wait, there's... a note..." He stared down at the worn gray fabric and saw a tiny slip of white paper pinned to the waistband.   
  
He slowly read the hastily scrawled words aloud: "Sweetie-pie, you left these at my place last night and I just thought I'd give them back. Can't wait until I see you tonight, my cuddly little darling. Love and kisses, your itty bitty honey-buggie."   
  
Carver whipped his head up with a murderous glare to see Eames rustling the shopping bag. "We also found this," she said, very calmly and coolly and evenly, and passed him a flyer with a blooming red rose taped to one corner.   
  
The seasoned lawyer grabbed the paper, nearly crunching it between his trembling hands, and stared at it in growing disbelief. "An ad for tango lessons, with my name at the bottom and a bunch of little hearts drawn around it."   
  
"That would be it," said Goren, very calmly and coolly and evenly.   
  
Carver took a long, deep breath. His fingers curled and clenched into fists, then loosened. He stared at the two with red cheeks and intense anger in his dark eyes. "You two... you're both detectives, correct?"   
  
Hurried nodding from the detectives.   
  
"_So find out who did this!_" Carver's bellowing roar boomed out across and down the hall as Goren and Eames fled.   
  
***   
  
They were still laughing when they got inside the precinct. Goren whirled around, his face bright with mirth, as he fluttered his hands daintily in the air. "Oh, _Ron_, you're so big and strong... oh, _Ron_!"   
  
"Stop," wailed Eames, clutching her stomach, "stop, Bobby, I can't breathe!" She went into another convulsion of laughter, shaking with giggles.   
  
Goren paused for a moment, his breath coming short in an entirely different way. Never before had Eames called him by his first name. She was still doubled over, her eyes sparkling and her wide smile radiant.   
  
Her chuckles subsiding, she peered over his shoulder and sobered instantly. "Goren?" She pointed at the bulletin board behind him.   
  
Goren turned around to see...   
  
***   
  
You decide ;-) Review, please!   



	3. Chapter 3

Because so many of the reviews mentioned Deakins, and the idea of... well, you'll have to wait and see. ;-)  
  
***  
  
Goren refused to look at Eames as he entered Deakins's office; she would not look at him. They both knew that if they even glanced each other, they would lose it.  
  
Deakins was chewing on a pen as he wrote a report, his eyes glazed over as he searched for the right word. The arrival of the detectives brought him to full awareness. "Goren, Eames... what brings you here?"  
  
Eames began in a carefully practiced neutral, steady tone. "We came back from the investigation of that double homicide, and we found this on the bulletin board." Goren withdrew the envelope from his pocket and passed it to Deakins.  
  
Deakins shrugged as he took the envelope and opened it. Out fell a photo, a note and a 100-dollar bill attached to the corners with a paper clip. Deakins held up the photo to the light to see it better--and spluttered. He then turned a peculiar shade of purple-red, something like mottled tomato juice jumbled with squashed blueberries.  
  
The photo featured the captain posed with hands on hips, shoulders slanted and head tilted sultrily to one side, in nothing a pink lace slip. He winked seductively at the camera, a pink rose clutched between his teeth. The note pinned to the photo read as follows: "Darling, last night was wonderful! The pictures turned out so well-I've got the rest at home. Won't you come over tonight for a private viewing? Your little sweetie-pie, Ron."  
  
A stifled sound from Goren quickly turned into a coughing fit as the captain raised his eyebrows. The 100-dollar bill was crumpled, and Deakins carefully smoothed it out as he kept his head down in silence. Finally, he spoke. "Detectives, I don't know who did this... and I'm not going to bother to find out. I leave it in your capable hands." After a moment's pause, pointedly: "You can go now."  
  
Goren and Eames swiftly filed out, managed to make it halfway to their office, and then ducked into a side corridor. Eames collapsed in tears of laughter as Goren howled, holding his hands over his mouth to muffle the noise.  
  
"You know," gasped Eames after several minutes had passed, wiping her eyes, "we have centuries' worth of blackmail in those photos..."  
  
"Yeah," Goren agreed, going into one last spasm of chuckles. "Seriously, though, we should find out who's doing this."  
  
"So we can bow down and worship them?" Eames grinned devilishly up at him.  
  
"Exactly." He helped her to her feet, his fingers lingering a moment on her arm, and they headed back to their office. Eames had just closed the door behind her when Goren's shout of surprise startled her. "Eames, come and see this!"  
  
*** 


End file.
